Valleys

It's camp season, and camp season reminds us all of the mountains we've been on with God - the incredible spiritual highs that we've had sprinkled throughout our Christian experience that have powerfully shaped our relationship with God and the times that have left us filled to overflowing. 

We spend so much of our lives chasing this feeling, trying to recreate those mountains. 

But can I tell you a secret? Can I tell you something raw and real and honest that I hope might help you when you get so deep back into your real life that it feels like the bottom is falling out of your faith? 

Here it is: 

You can have this feeling in the valleys, too. 

Actually, I think it's even more powerful here. 

When you're in the valley, you don't just want God; you need Him. That fullness you're seeking? It pours into a true emptiness, and that means that the measure of it is even bigger than you ever imagined. 

It's the difference between having a bunch of acquaintances who like to go bowling and frequent the farmer's market and hang out at the playground while the kids push each other on the swings and having a true friend who will bring you a tub of ice cream and eat it in the corner of the basement with you while you cry. 

At summer camp, God is awesome; in the valley, He's awe-inspiring. At camp, He's totally cool; in the valley, He's totally close. 

And this kind of radical experience draws you near to Him in a way that expands your heart to hold more of Him until you're filled to almost bursting with His goodness. Even in the mud. Even in the shadows. Even in the weeds. Even in the wilderness. 

The truth is that as our faith matures, we find that we feel closest to God not on the mountaintop, where it feels like either one of us could go tumbling off the peak at any moment, but in the valley, where the downward force of gravity - of trauma, of hurt, of brokenness, of emptiness - keeps drawing us closer. 

We spend so much of our Christian journey trying to make sure that our mountaintop faith can survive the valleys, but friends, I think that's wrong. I think what we need is a valley kind of faith that can survive the mountaintops. 

We need a faith that's tested in the darkness, that's rock solid sure, that's steady in the doldrums so that when we get filled with with the euphoria of the mountain, we don't forget the substance of God. That we don't forget that He's more than good feelings and joy and fun. That we don't forget that the God who shows up to celebrate with us is the same God who eats ice cream in the dark corners while we cry. 

Mountains

It's summer camp season, so my social media feed is filled with pictures of young persons hanging out with their friends, worshiping God, and having mountaintop experiences. There are updates about how many lives are being saved, how many commitments are being made, how many core memories are being locked in. 

It reminds me of my own camp seasons more than two decades ago. 

And lest the rest of us be left out, there's something for the adults, too. Spiritual retreats, ladies' weekends, mens' breakfasts, church picnics, worship night under the stars...the lists go on. Summer is a great season; it reminds us of the mountains that we've been on. 

These are the moments we want to recreate. These are the moments we want to experience forever. If we're honest, most of our church programming is tailored to try to create these experiences - mountaintops. Moments of such vibrant, worshipful, joyous encounter with God that your whole life feels full. You might even say overflowing. 

You come bouncing out of these moments with all kinds of energy, all kinds of hope, all kinds of confident assurance. All kinds of enthusiasm, not just for your own walk with the Lord, but for everybody's. You're about to tell the world how incredible God is, and you've got enough pep and zip and woohoo in your spirit and your voice that you just know they're gonna listen. 

How could they not? 

Yes, we want to live our lives on the mountaintops. 

In fact, most of us come home from these experiences - from these camps, these retreats, these picnics, these fellowships - and determine that we're never going to live in the valleys again. We're never going to let ourselves lose this feeling. We're never going to settle for anything less in our life of faith than exactly this - the full-throttle, completely-sold-out, total excitement for God that we have after a few days away with Him. 

But we know it doesn't last. 

We go back to our real life - to work and family and neighbors and bills and responsibilities and bodies and brokenness. And it doesn't take long until that high that we felt wears off and settles back into the doldrums, back into the routine, back into checking a box on a connect card and dropping it in the box on our way to beat the (fill in the rival denomination of your choice) to Wendy's. 

Before long, we're wondering how we can get it back. How we can get that feeling back. How we can recreate that mountaintop experience and discover that fellowship all over again. How we can refill our tank, which feels far more empty these days than that fullness of overflowing we said we were never going to let go. 

We wonder if we've lost our faith. If maybe we don't believe any more like we used it. It certainly doesn't feel like it used to. 

And then...the bottom falls out....  

Saving Ourselves

If you're anything like me, you seek a lot of opinions. When anything is going on, I have a handful of folks that I go running to to see what they have to say, to see if they see things the same way that I do, to receive the reassurances that things are going to turn out okay. 

In the age of the internet, we also ask our computers a lot of things. You can even take a picture now and search for that picture. It's crazy the amount of information that we have at our fingertips. 

And yet...when it all comes down to it, there's only one bit of information that matters: the official report. 

You can't act on the opinions of your friends. You can't act on the wisdom of the experts. You can't act on the article you found on the back pages of the internet that kind of sort of half mentions something like this. You can't act on your own gut instinct. If you want to move forward in this world, you can only act on the official record - on what was said and decided by the person with the authority to speak and to decide. 

This is true in our work - where the boss has to approve your wild idea. This is true in medicine - where the doctor has to authorize the treatment. This is true in homeowners associations - where the neighbors have to give the nod to your new fence. We spend our lives seeking options and opinions and opportunities only to run right up against the wall of authority every time and realize it all comes back to one authority that either yeas or nays it. 

If we're honest about it, we should have already known this. 

Because the same is true with God. 

We spend our lives running around, trying to gather opinions and options and opportunities. We ask our friends, our family, our bosses, our coworkers, our neighbors, our pastors, our doctors, whoever, and we come up with a great plan. And that plan is usually how we're going to save ourselves from...something. 

Save ourselves from financial disaster. Save ourselves from death. Save ourselves from heartache. Save ourselves from trouble. 

And listen, sometimes, we have really good plans. We do. We formulate strategies that ought to work, things that make perfect sense to any rational mind. 

But we run right up against the same thing we always do - that there's only one perspective that matters, and it ain't ours. It's God's. 

God is the one who has to approve this whole thing. God is the one who has to make it work. God is the one who gives it the go-ahead. 

And God...is not interested in all the ways we've come up with to save ourselves. 

Because God is the only one who can save us. 

He knows that. We know that. He knows that we know that, even when we seem to have forgotten. That's why it seems that the more plans we come up with to save ourselves, the more God steps in and foils our plans so that we remember what we have forgotten - God alone can save us. God alone does save us. 

Praise the Lord. 

God of Grace

Have you ever looked at someone else's life and wished you had what they have? 

We do it all the time, especially in the age of social media. From the outside looking in, someone else's life can always be a temptation to us. They have a nicer car, a better-looking spouse, a stronger community, a more vibrant church, a deeper faith, a more prominent job, a fatter bank account. I tell you, we look at those photos, and their grass really does look greener. 

How did they get their yard looking so nice? 

It's tempting, but as we all know, the pictures only tell part of the story. The story only tells part of the story. The things they say, the things they share, the things they decide the world can see are only a fraction of their lived existence, and the truth is that everyone has their struggles. And while you're busy looking at their life and wishing for what they have, they're busy looking at yours and wishing the same. 

It seems almost unimaginable to those of us living our own lives. How could anyone look at this and think they want it? In our tougher seasons, it doesn't make sense. But it's true. Because perspective is everything, and each of us feels like we're missing something...because we are. But that thing we feel like we're missing is different for each of us, so we end up just envying each other and wanting what looks like that last missing piece. 

Want to know the secret truth about all of this? 

The last missing piece for all of us is exactly the same. The trick is accepting it. 

We could get together and swap pieces of our lives until each of us has what we think we wanted, and it wouldn't do us any good. We would still feel like something was missing...because something would still be missing. We weren't made to have our lives complete, not this side of Eden. 

That missing piece that we're always searching for...is grace. And it only comes from the God who loves us. And it always comes from the God who loves us. 

Peter calls us all "heirs of the gracious gift of life" (3:7). In other words, we are all recipients of God's grace, and He has given us exactly the same amount of it - a full measure. 

A measure that pours down into our cracks and fills them up to wholeness. A measure that makes up for what this broken world leaves us lacking. A measure that reminds us that there's something so good about God that none of the troubles we face even stand a chance. 

A measure that makes our grass greener. Truly. 

We just have to be willing to look around our own lives and see it. 

So there's the challenge - what has God's grace done for you? Where do you see the full measure of it poured out in your life? What have you inherited through it?

Do you see the goodness? It's already here, right where you are. 

God the Judge

We have a pretty good idea of who is going to be saved. Or so we think. 

We look around at the horrible evils in the world, and we are certain those evildoers are not the kinds of persons God wants around Him for eternity. We're talking about the felons, yes, but we're also talking about the liberals...or the conservatives. The evangelicals or the charismatics. The men or the women. The seekers and the lost. 

We've got all kinds of categories of persons, based on our own perspectives and stories, who just aren't heaven material. At least, not as far as we understand God. 

But such an understanding - if you can even call it that - doesn't account for the vast majority of what God has to say about Himself, of what He told us we need to know about Him. 

One of those things we're supposed to know about Him - perhaps, when it comes to how we evaluate the persons around us and eternal salvation - is this: 

God is the only one who's gonna judge. And He's the only one who is gonna decide who He saves (James 4:12). 

Not you. Not me. Not the headlines. Not the church. Not the doctrine. Not the Bible as we have divided it, rightly or wrongly. None of that. 

Just God. 

And let me tell you something - 

God looks and He sees the sinner. He sees the liar and the worrier and the woman broken by sin. He sees the striver and the judgmental and the one drawn by the pleasures of the flesh. He sees the self-righteous, the righteously angry, the one just doing their best but falling woefully short anyway because that's how the wounded human heart just is, whether we like it or not. He sees the failure and the fearer and the tormented and the hurting. 

He sees her created in His own image, and His heart is moved with compassion. He sees all the barriers, all the brokenness, all the burdens, and still, He says - unlike so many of us - I can still save this one. I will save this one. 

And thank the Lord, for even with all my judgment, my perspective, my self-confidence, my utter arrogance about it, she is the one I also see...every time I look in the mirror.